


Day 19. Swollen

by Munnin



Series: Fictober [19]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 23:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Babysitting a slicer isn't exactly what Red Mist are trained for but orders are orders.





	Day 19. Swollen

It took a dozen message and two days to agree on terms but eventually, Swan accepted the job. 

Red Mist were on call for the tactical droid mission. Which meant they were on Coruscant until the slicer did the job and the generals worked out what to do next. 

Which meant they drew the short straw - babysitting the slicer. 

Swan’s terms required that he work in a place of his choosing, and without disturbance. 

Republic Security’s terms required that where the droid head went, a clone trooper went too. 

Which was why Fordo was leaning against the wall of a cramped two room apartment in the anonymous mid-levels of Coruscant, facing a closed bedroom door. 

For hours. 

And it would be several hours more before Crispy relieved him.

At least the music was pleasant to listen to. Swan Le had been very clear that music was an important part of his process and it would be playing the whole time he was working. 

It wasn’t a style that Fordo had heard before. Not that he was a music aficionado but he knew what he liked. And whatever it was Le was playing, it was…nice. 

He’d turned up earlier than the slicer had expected him, needing to verify the security of the space before the head arrived. The rooms needed to be set up with special jammers, to make sure any information couldn’t be transmitted out once the droid’s systems were reactivated. Or by Le if he was planning to sell them out. 

The Nikto had vouched for Le and Linc had vouched for the Nikto. But Frodo was still wasn’t taking any chances. 

Arriving early had caught Le off-guard. The slicer had been pretty annoyed by it but Fordo had a feeling that had less to do with the timing, and more to do with what he’d seen when Le opened the door. The slicer had scrambled to pull a shapeless cowl over his sleeveless shirt but his arm had been exposed long enough for Frodo to see the injury.

A deep bruise around the slicer’s upper arm. The spot where the Nikto had gripped him. The flesh was swollen and dark purple against the slicer’s pale blue skin. 

Le might have been a genius level intellect but he was extremely fragile. And potentially physically weak. It wasn’t information Frodo planned to use against the slicer, but years of war and all his training had taught him to notice, analysis and remember things like that. 

He made a mental note to signal Crispy to bring a bacta pad. And probably some food. Not that the slicer seemed to take breaks. 

But if the fate of the Republic hung on this slicer, they’d babysit him to the best of their abilities. 

***

It took three days for Swan to get what he could from the droid, emerging from the tiny room looking drawn and tired. He was eating (apparently for the first time in those three days) when Fordo, Cody and General Kenobi arrived to relieve Jat.

“I can’t break the source code.” Le announced between bites of his rather large sandwich. “Because it’s doesn’t have a source code left.”

The general frowned, running his beard. “You mean it’s been deleted.” 

Le shook his head. “Overwritten. The human male who programmed this was good. Very, very good. The droid was programmed with a folding experiential algorithm. They don’t just learn, they rewrite their own base code with each learning experience. If I had three, five, seven of them, I might be able to reverse engineer the original code but one isn’t enough. I’ve got nothing to compare the code structure to.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” General Kenobi hummed. “I suppose acquiring more is easier said than done.” 

Fordo lifted an eyebrow at the General. The head they had cost the Republic the lives of seventeen clone troopers, four starfighters and the arm of one Jedi. If ordered, they’d pay it again. And again. But he was hoping the General wouldn’t order it. 

Kenobi seemed to latch onto something and cocked his head at Le. “You said human male. How do you know that? Did you find the programmer’s name?”

Le shook his head, making another sandwich. 

“Then how do you know the programmer was a human male?”

“Programmers are like composer.” Le explained, licking relish from a finger. “Each has their own style and influences. They use different sets of code the way a symphony is built from different instruments. A code written by a team has different pacing to a code constructed by one person. I can tell you this programmer worked alone, was male, human, and trained at one of the Induparan Crown Worlds academies. Indupar Royal Academy, most likely. And he’s genuinely exceptional, not just wealthy. Probably there on a scholarship.” 

Cody shook his head, incredulous. “You can tell all that just from the coding?”

Le gave the clone commander a condescending look. “Do you want me to explain it to you in small words?”

Obi-Wan held up a hand. For all Cody’s suspicions (and incredulity), Obi-Wan could feel that Swan Le was telling the truth. “Can you tell us anything else about the programmer?”

“He doesn’t like Jedi.” Swan added thoughtfully. “There’s a subroutine that specifically entered to make the droids taunt Jedi at every opportunity. It’s a deliberate and personal choice.”

“A human male who attended the Indupar Royal Academy on scholarship, who has a personal grudge against the Jedi.” Obi-Wan scratches his chin again. “That’s… very helpful actually. It will narrow down the search considerably.”

“One other thing.” Swan polished off the second sandwich just as fast as the first. Famine and feast was either his species’ eating pattern or some weird coping mechanism. “The programmer didn’t build these droids. The code was written somewhere then executed somewhere else, by someone else.” 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“The symphony written was one person – the Induparan with a grudge. But it was conducted by a different hand. Someone who picked through the code and chose which attributes would be emphasised when the droids were activated. Favouring different instruments in the playing of the notes. I can’t tell which attributes are which, not without reconstructing the base code but the symphony isn’t being played the way the composer intended. And he hasn’t been involved enough to try to correct it.”

“That’s a fascinating insight, Mr Le.” Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Are you certain you won’t accept a position with Republic Intelligence? We could very much use an individual with your talents and perspective.” 

Le visibly blanched and took a step back, shifting to put the tiny kitchenette counter between him and the Jedi. “No.” It came out quite sharply. “I take the jobs I want, when I want. I’m at no-one’s beck and call. Just pay me and go.” 

Fordo could see the slicer begin to flush with something like panic. He hadn’t told General Kenobi, or anyone else, what the Nikto had told him, but he had a fair idea it had something to do with the way the slicer was reacting now. “General, we should be getting this information and the head back.”

“Yes, indeed we should.” Obi-Wan stepped back, giving Swan Le room, sensing he’d somehow overstepped a mark. He touched the datapad in his vambrace. “The rest of your payment is being transferred now.”

Swan touched the datapad on the counter and nodded, watching the numbers shift upwards on his account.

“I assume,” Obi-Wan edges, “we can rely on your discretion in this matter?” 

“That’s what you paid for.” Le snapped, back to his mildly snarky self. 

Obi-Wan gave his best disarming smile. “Then it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” He gave a formal bow and backed out of the room.

Cody followed but Le caught Fordo’s eye before he could join them. The slicer slid a credit chip across the counter to him. “For the food. And the bacta.”

“You don’t-” But then Fordo stopped himself. It was a matter of pride. Swan Le paid his own way. He owed no debts, no favours. And that way, no-one could hold claim over him. Nodding, Fordo slipped the chip into his pouch and followed the others out. 

It hadn’t been the most exciting assignment, but it had been an interesting one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both Josh and Jess for reasons they both know.


End file.
